Earth Borne

by Rachael Slate

  “I care for you deeply,” he offered, not denying her statement.

  She laughed. She’d been fighting off his proposals for years. It was a jest between them. Each of Thereus’s unwed brothers offered themselves to her, as their honor demanded. Only Petraeus remained insistent. Though he never spoke of it, Melita knew why. He’d been three when his mother died. Thereus’s abandonment of Lucian sat hard with Petraeus.

  However, he did not love her. She would never trap him in marriage. He was a fine young male, and someday another would capture his heart.

  “I care for you as well, but you are meant for someone else. Ah, ah, ah,” she tsked as he opened his mouth to counter her. “I am fine, truly. He won’t be staying for long.” She hoped.

  “Bastard,” he muttered.

  “No, no, it’s better this way.” She offered him a weak smile.

  “Say the word, Kalliste, and I’ll kill him for you.” Scowling, he clasped her in his arms.

  “Forgive me.” She pushed back from his embrace.

  “Why?”

  “Please, you must go. You can’t be here.” The last thing she needed was to invoke a centaur’s jealousy. If Thereus learned another male had his sights on his wife, it would be disastrous to her plans. He’d never leave.

  Petraeus growled. “Very well, but I’m only a letter away, hmm?” He tilted her chin up at him. She nodded, warmed by his concern. In a brotherly fashion, he kissed the top of her head then released her. “Take care, sweetling, and remember.”

  “I will.” She smiled and waved as he galloped toward the forest. Alone again, she sank to her knees, staring at her shaking hands. That was close. Too close.

  She was still torn up from her argument with Thereus. Her mind reasoned their dispute was a good thing. The more they quarreled, the more likely he’d be to abandon her once more.

  Her heart protested it would never be able to piece itself back together again if he did.

  Thereus awoke in a cold sweat. His heart beat so rapidly inside his chest he was sure it would explode. His left arm throbbed with such severity he had a mind to saw it off.

  That wouldn’t cure him.

  Shame over his outburst with Kalliste this afternoon pulsed through him. He’d begun by praising her, and somehow they’d ended in a bitter fight. Fury burned in him, but not at her. At himself, for having left his estate in ruin. Yet he’d directed his anger, most ungenerously, at her. He refused to resume their marriage as he’d left it—an endless war of words he’d long ago lost.

  His arm throbbed again and a fever broke across his skin as images of that night assaulted him.

  He’d quarreled with his new bride for three weeks. Each day, they went at it like dogs. Why was she so cruel to him? He’d always been able to charm any female. Not Kalliste. Her heart was made of ice.

  When she’d first arrived as his bride, he’d been lukewarm about the whole idea. At least she was beautiful, he’d conceded. For a week, he’d courted her. She said little, contributed little, and only spoke when asked a direct question. His wife refused to meet any of his family. Still, he tried. On their wedding night, she’d transformed into an entirely different creature. Though timid, she’d met his passion.

  Or so he’d believed. Until the next morning, when his wife was once more the glacial beauty he’d wed.

  Each day afterward, he’d attempted to seduce her, yet her sharp tongue shocked him. She’d called him a brute, an animal. The truth of her personality revealed itself. She refused each of his advances.

  Thereus wasn’t used to such celibacy. He wanted—needed—to lie with a female. All centaurs did. The abstinence had driven him mad. He’d been forced to drink to suppress those urges.

  His worst nightmare had come true—being tied to a female who wouldn’t have him. He was at his wit’s end, confounded by what else he could do.

  One night he’d become utterly intoxicated. In the wee hours of the morning, he’d stumbled to his rooms. In the dim stairwell outside his chambers, he’d caught the most delicious honeyed scent. The repressed animal in him flew into a rage. When he perceived those long mahogany locks, he lost the power to resist. She was his. His by right.

  A centaur unfulfilled was a danger to himself and others. It was more than simple lust. A madness infected them. Centaurs suspected of having succumbed to the lyssa were imprisoned, and if they couldn’t be cured, executed.

  Thereus had leapt upon the maiden in the stairwell. When she’d parted her lips—and her legs—for him, he’d growled in triumph. In the darkness, he’d shoved down his breeches and hiked up her skirts. Wrapping her legs around his waist, he’d pounded into her until he was exhausted. After he’d finished, he’d simply deserted her in the stairwell, and with little grace had stumbled into his bedchamber and lost consciousness.

  Thereus didn’t recall much else, except how his left arm had throbbed, and how, the next morning, he’d been horrified to find blood on himself. The logical deduction made him ill, and he’d heaved the contents of his stomach into his chamber pot. The maiden hadn’t been his wife. Who the bloody hell was she? He’d met each of the castle’s servants, hadn’t he?

  The horror intensified when he touched his left bicep and traced the bonding mark beneath the skin, itching to break free. Though invisible to the eye, if someone prodded his arm, they’d detect a hard line, like a thin rope, forming a band underneath the skin.

  His howls had echoed to him with ghastly terror. What in Hades had he done? Not only had he committed adultery, he’d taken a girl’s maidenhead, possibly against her will, and he’d begun bonding with her. He was unable to face his shame, any of it.

  He’d chosen to leave. His wife despised him. With him gone, she’d have the right to return to her people. If he stayed, he’d risk bonding to this mystery woman. Being chained to one female for eternity.

  How would he explain to his family his household of illegitimate heirs? He’d never be able to mate, much less have children with Kalliste. His actions would disgrace them. Like a coward, rather than face himself, or locate the lass and apologize, he’d fled.

  When his ship had wrecked, he’d seen it as a sign of approval from the gods. The news of the wreck would reach his family. They’d assume he was dead, and might grieve, but probably not for long.

  For years, he kept his dark secret hidden. No one, not even Arsenius, ever guessed. He’d been so careful, so clever, at concealing the truth. Taking great pains to continue his deception.

  He hadn’t bedded a female in nigh five years, yet he’d damn well made it seem as though he conquered plenty. Every day, he lived his ruse, a life of lies. All to deny what he couldn’t bear to admit.

  Thereus rubbed his arm, attempting to ease the burning sensation accompanying the throbbing. As a partially bonded male, his already voracious appetite for females increased tenfold, yet he’d been unable to indulge. None save the female his horse had chosen would satisfy him.

  He wanted nothing to do with her.

  Until now. Certainly, the bonding mark bothered him every so often, yet the pain had never increased in severity as it had since his return.

  It made no sense. His horse hadn’t chosen her five years ago. Why did he now, what had changed?

  Had the gods taken pity on his attempt at redemption? Would they bond him to his wife instead? Or was this Persephone’s doing? She had warned him of his mate…

  Terror over having no choice broke a new sweat across his skin. Kalliste might refuse him, as she’d done years ago. Only, if he were bonded, he wouldn’t be able to run away again.

  Where was the mystery woman who’d initiated this bloody mess? She haunted his dreams, though he couldn’t picture her face. If not for the evidence, he’d have convinced himself it was an illusion. Her honeyed scent was so dream-like in itself, the memory of it made his mouth water and his cock grow hard with need.

  Her honeyed scent.

  An inkling formed in his mind. It was so absurd, he dismissed the n
otion at once. Aye, it was most definitely ridiculous, and so very unlikely. Yet not…impossible.

  Thereus rubbed his face in his hands. He’d been a bastard yesterday, and it was time to apologize to his wife. Again. First, he sought the exertion of a long run to work off his frustration.

  ***

  Melita sipped her tea in the atrium while Lucian chased a butterfly. Her argument with Thereus the day before had been a blessing, no matter the tattered state of her heart this morning. She was doing precisely what it would take to convince Thereus to leave. If it proved harder than she’d assumed, well, that was her fault.

  Soon this would be finished. He’d be gone and she’d have her freedom.

  A shuffling echoed by the door. The hairs on her neck tingled as though someone watched her. Whirling around, the glorious form of Thereus stormed her senses. She drank him in with greed, her skin flushing at the memory of his heat. Her heart sighed in contentment while her resolve scowled. What is he doing here? He should have avoided her for a day, at the very least.

  “What do you seek, my Lord?” Her voice dripped with ice.

  “I…”

  Good, he wasn’t prepared for an ill reception.

  He frowned at her for a minute, but strode forward and knelt, with utmost elegance, at her feet. “I wish to apologize, my Lady. It appears once more I’m in need of your forgiveness. You’ve done so much for this castle and I’d no right to insult you.”

  Her heart stuck in her throat. To have this gigantic centaur humbled at her feet was a sight she’d never envisioned. His smile jested a little, for he was never entirely serious, but sincerity permeated his tone. He’d had a reputation for charming women and she didn’t doubt he’d perform the grandest of gestures if it got him what he sought. What female could resist?

  Certainly not Melita. No male ever treated her as though they desired her.

  Not Thereus. Here was a male, who it seemed, genuinely wished to claim her. Even though she’d been horrible to him. She shook her head, unsure of how to respond. Unlike Thereus, she had no experience with this kind of flirting.

  He must have perceived her wrong, for pain flashed in his eyes. “My Lady, forgive me. I’ve spoiled our truce. Yet you promised me five weeks. I can be different, Kalliste. I swear it.”

  Her heart melted. This was the Thereus she’d loved. The male she remembered. Despite everything, she viewed the lad who never believed himself good enough for his father, his brothers. Who misbehaved because he craved their attention. Well, and also because he was wild. She empathized with the yearning for acceptance. For someone to love him as he was. If only she might determine a way to tell him, somehow. She’d loved him, faults and all.

  She stared into those stunning verdant depths and, afraid to speak, instead inclined her head. A grin spread across his face and she smiled back.

  “What do you propose, my Lord?”

  His grin turned mischievous. “You were right, my Lady. I should tour the village for myself. Who better to guide me than its Mistress?” He rose so his face was level with hers. “Will you do me the honor, Melita?”

  Once again he’d stolen her voice, so she simply nodded.

  “Good.” Masculine triumph flashed in his grin. “I’ll meet you at the Portal in half an hour.”

  ***

  Thereus rubbed his hands together in eager anticipation. Today he would prove to his wife he was a gentleman. That he was civilized. She wouldn’t gawk at him again like he was a monster, this he vowed. Though it’d required a little coaxing, she agreed to offer him another chance. He hadn’t ruined everything and he must ensure he didn’t foul this up again.

  She glided through the Portal with Lucian, and he didn’t utter a word about her walking, despite the beast in him resenting it greatly. His mate should ride him.

  He’d hoped to spend the day alone with her, but it was better with Lucian. There’d be no opportunity to fight, or to kiss. A good thing today. He’d already observed how Kalliste’s body responded to his touch. What he must convince was her mind.

  They approached the village and once again he was in shock. His feet trudged forward, while his mind twisted about, dreamlike. Westgard’s village resembled nothing like his memories.

  Townspeople rushed to and fro, conducting business. On the outskirts of the village, nestled throughout the valley, lay dozens of farms. The town appeared as modern as any human village he’d seen on his travels. The shoppes were new, built of sturdy stone, with clay-colored roofs. Even the main street was made of cobblestone, not packed dirt as he’d expected.

  He followed Kalliste, her small footsteps easy to keep pace with even though every few seconds he’d whip around his head, staring at whatever caught his attention.

  A group of townspeople paused to mirror Kalliste’s waves, but stopped short as they spotted him. He tilted his head, and their stunned gapes morphed into palpable beams of joy.

  Pain sparked in his shin. He swallowed his curse as he stumbled into the ledge of a fountain.

  Mother?

  Gazing upward, he bit back a flood of emotions. A life-size statue of his mother graced the middle of an elegant fountain in the center of the town. Her face, her eyes. Exactly as he remembered them. The color, a white stone so pure she almost appeared real. His mother, Queen Atalante, was one of the rare Kentaurides—female centaurs. Few of them existed, and none as beautiful as his mother had been. The alabaster stone shone brilliantly in the sun, just as she had.

  He swallowed against the dryness of his throat. How he missed her.

  A soft weight fell upon his arm. Kalliste.

  “Your father helped me with the likeness,” she murmured. “Everyone spoke so highly of her. I know how much she meant to you. I wish I’d met her.”

  He cocked his head at her. She did this for him? She’d erected a monument to his beloved mother? Why did she constantly challenge his beliefs about her? He’d deemed Kalliste so cold for never caring a damn about his family.

  He wasn’t wrong in his assumptions. Hell, she’d refused to meet any of his siblings.

  Where had this newfound appreciation for his kin come from? Was it because of Lucian? Too much contradiction beclouded her. He was losing the ability to tell up from down. There was something to be said for people changing, but it was as though she was an entirely different lass.

  Well, he almost chuckled, except when she’d called him a brute. That was spot-on.

  Melita studied Thereus while he stared at the statue. Why did she show it to him? More importantly, why had she told him she’d commissioned the fountain? She should’ve shrugged it off as an impulse of devotion by the villagers.

  Often she found herself sitting on the edge of the fountain. The Queen’s kind smile soothed her. She pretended Atalante was her mother.

  Thereus had no idea how fortunate he was. How his family cherished him. She’d erected the statue as much for herself as for him, hoping to borrow some affection.

  Lucian ran up and grabbed her skirts, laughing as he spun her around. With a cry, he scurried off once more, splashing into the fountain.

  Beside her, Thereus chuckled heartily. “He certainly has spirit, doesn’t he?”

  “You have no idea.” As his features darkened, she bit her tongue. She shouldn’t have spoken those words, shouldn’t have reminded him of his absence in Lucian’s life.

  “Come, Kalliste, what would you like to show me first?” To his credit, he changed the subject to smooth the awkwardness, offering his arm. Tentatively, she placed her hand on his forearm.

  “Lucian!” she called over her shoulder as she led Thereus into one of the town’s shoppes.

  “Lady Kalliste!” The shopkeeper whirled around from his display.

  “Good morning, Dupon.” She flashed him a warm smile. The corners of his mouth lifted, but froze as he caught sight of Thereus. “May I present my husband, Lord—”

  “I know who he is,” Dupon whispered shakily. “My Lord.” He dipped into an ove
rly eager bow.

  “Aye, and I remember you too.” Thereus inclined his head. “I’m not surprised your shoppe is flourishing. It must be the most popular store in the village.” He strode to the trembling shopkeeper and offered his hand.

  Dupon’s shoulders relaxed immediately. He returned the smile as he grasped Thereus’s hand. “Milord, if I do recall…” He stepped to a glass jar on the shelf to their right. Removing a sweet, he presented it to Thereus. “This is your favorite.” Dupon beamed as his Lord accepted the offering.

  “Candied honeysuckle.” Thereus laughed and shook his head. “I’ve not tasted this in years.” He placed the delicate morsel on his tongue and Melita did not miss the flash of hunger in his eyes as his admiration swept over her.

  Instead of indulging, she diverted her energy to Lucian while Thereus talked with Dupon. His subject prattled about his merchandise. She swung her son, in human form, onto her hip, readying to depart.

  Before joining her, Thereus withdrew a bulging satchel of coins from his vest and placed the entirety on the shopkeeper’s counter. With a wave, he was out the door.

  Melita scowled. She was torn between being as in awe of his generosity as Dupon was, and hating him for deeming to purchase loyalty. A deeper, more reasonable part of her poked at her, whispering she was simply jealous.

  A bakery, a sweet shoppe, a tailor and a seamstress, a blacksmith, a taverna. The list went on and on. They visited every one. As her husband inspected each, the shopkeepers expressed their enthusiasm with beaming smiles. Wherever he went, the men and women gaped at him in admiration.

  Observing him amongst so many other centaurs, the power of Thereus struck Melita anew. His strength was in more than his enormous form. It was in how he carried himself, the set of his shoulders, the gleam in his eye. One did not doubt for an instant that he owned everything around him.

  Yet his manner did not intimidate. He didn’t thrust his power in front of everyone, gloating as they cowered at his feet. Not like my father and Philaeus. She grimaced. Her family absorbed the fears of everyone in their presence, consuming them like nourishment.